This is a good book, better than many books on the history of depression that came after it. But it’s dated, the scant attention given to anti-depressants marks it as a pre-Prozac book. I think in a way that might be part of its strength though. It’s perspective wasn’t warped by the exaggerated impression of a new era that Prozac provoked.
Jackson’s writing shares a problem with many scholarly books. It’s not filled with jargon or convoluted obscure writing, it’s clear enough. But it also has no style, no wit, and no attention given to how to hold the reader’s attention. If you’re interested enough in the subject matter, you’ll slog through. I can’t imagine a casually-interested reader managing to get through it.